Easy Rider
by Son Rhandi
Summary: Kevin Mask reflects on the events of the New Generation VS Generation-EX switchover tournament.


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Disclaimer: I gots nothin', so don't sue me.

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Notes: 

1) There is, in this Mask's opinion, nothing better than zooming down the highway with nothing but you, the car, the open road, and anime/J-pop songs blasting out of the cd player (B'z 4 LIFE!), except maybe all that and some sort of hot beef and cheese sandwich. Perhaps a cheeseburger or taco or a boli, the list goes on. I just thought I'd mention that. Another Kevin Mask fic for you. I hope you all enjoy reading this more than I did writing it. Much, much more.

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Easy Rider

By Son Rhandi

The freedom of the open road is a fine thing: the driver, the vehicle and the beautiful expanse of asphalt... and perhaps a bit of music if the automotive has a radio. The motorcycle's engine growled like a tiger, a tiger of steel in the asphalt jungle overlooking the sea. He'd been riding all night through to the early morn, the young man with a feather in his cap, or on his helmet, rather. When passing other motorists, now and again, he'd get a surprised little look from them, their eyes sparkling upon the sight of a celebrity. And when it was safe to do so, he'd acknowledge them with a little wave and return his attentions to the road.

Kevin's helmet gleamed in the sun's light, still soft and low and burning red. The air carried the scent of saltwater and the cries of seagulls, neither of which the Englishman seemed to mind. He cranked the accelerator, his mechanized tiger rumbling deep in its throat, grinding its burning rubber paws faster to the highway. The road took him to the shore, the sounds of waves pounding the surf echoing in his ears. With a put-put-putter, his jungle cat bike slowed its roll and pulled into the lot, the only vehicle present. Kevin put the kickstand down and headed out to the sandy beach.

He'd been in Japan for over a week now. After hearing Harabote's announcement to have a switchover match-- those fool four of the New Generation against the promising Generation-EXcellent--he hung about the island nation's Tokyo, thinking it be a bit of fun to watch. That notion went flying out the window when the one who called himself 'Scar Face' hatched from the gangster overbody to reveal himself as the one the Englishman knew as Mars, the deadly bird of prey.

They actually got on pretty well, that young Briton, aloof like a stray cat, and that steely-eyed hawk. Whenever they met, no matter what the circumstance, the conversation always ended in a volley of insults and snide comments directed at each other. And then, they'd turn their backs to one another and go about their business, both parties exasperated. Secretly, though, Kevin enjoyed their 'friendly' rivalry, or as close to friendliness as anyone could get there in the dMp. In the ring, however, was an entirely different story. Friend or foe, it was all the same to Mars. He wouldn't hold back for him or anyone else, and made it a point to let everyone know it. The canvas was always smeared with blood whenever they fought, even though they were only engaging in practice matches. He would drive Kevin to the breaking point, and to him, Kevin the same. Their matches always ended in a draw. Then came the day when his problems began, the day of the spike log, the day they crossed that terrible lava pit. He had been so grateful when Mars saved his life, but his assistance came with a price: the secret his father entrusted him with had to be revealed. With the new knowledge he possessed, how would a horrible man such as Mars use it? He found out months later, upon the destruction of the dMp base lodged in Mt. Fuji's side, in the appearance of the brutish Scar Face...

The wind picked up suddenly, making his hair dance about. Kevin checked his watch. 6:30 A.M., still early enough for him to own the beach a little longer. The Englishman gave a little sigh--an action not very common of him--and let the foamy sea overtake his boots as he walked leisurely along the shoreline. He was glad he abandoned the dMp that time ago. He wouldn't have been able to be so free in their ranks, not to mention alive. 

"It really was a close one..." he murmured to himself, sloshing his feet further into the ocean. They were all lucky that the muscle prince could come up with an effective move to clip the bird's wings on such short notice. "Even if it ended up being to Mantaro's benefit, it was still stupid of me..!" Kevin kicked up the sand and water beneath his feet, his yellow eyes narrowed to little, smoldering slits. It had been a dangerous situation, but he learned his lesson. What was done couldn't be undone and that was that. The Englishman calmed down a little, sighing once again. 

He wondered what it was that made his father think that the secret of besting the Kinniku Buster would be safe in his trust. Granted, it would have remained secret if he hadn't been put in that life-or-death situation over that bubbling lava pit, but still… For most, the bond between father and son is a strong one, but since the day he ran away, their bond became like the paper chain-- a little tug and pull and it rips in two. 

At the sight of the first couple in shorts and swimsuits, Kevin departed, not wishing for any unwanted attention. He was happy that things had turned out for the best, and in the end, Mars got his. His business in Japan was done, and there was really no point in sticking around. The beauty in being a wanderer was that one could go anywhere one wanted whenever one wanted, not having to consider others and only having oneself to think about. In any case, he was playing the role of the vagabond once again, all the Earth his territory.

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End file.
